


Empty Closets

by FyrMaiden



Category: Glee
Genre: Canon sexual assault (Kitty), F/M, Homophobia, Period appropriate closeting, homophobic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4377515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyrMaiden/pseuds/FyrMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kitty isn't stupid enough to not see the sadness in Blaine's eyes. (50s ish couple-of-convenience)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty Closets

Kitty slides into the booth across from him, arranges her skirts on the worn vinyl and then makes sure her hair is sitting right just behind her shoulders. When a waitress appears, she orders herself a banana shake and waits for Blaine to place an order for himself as well before asking him if everything is okay. They’ve been going steady since Easter, or that’s what Kitty’s father thinks. Blaine’s father is on the same golf circuit as hers, and they go to the same church. It works for both of them to be seen out together - Kitty benefits from the security of having a boy to pick her up for group dates and dances, and Blaine neatly sidesteps the whispers that they’ve both heard about him, and which he has never denied, not to her. She can see from the set of his jaw and the faraway look in his eyes that he’s a thousand miles from “okay” at the moment, but she can’t help him if he doesn’t speak. So she waits, fiddles with her purse, crosses her ankles and uncrosses them again, plays with the cross on the chain around her throat, and waits for him to find his voice.

It’s quiet, his voice, when he finally speaks. He folds his hands on the table, leans forward so she can smell his cologne, can see the troubles swirling in the hazel depths of his impossible eyes, eyes that makes her wish, somewhat consistently, that she could be what he’s searching for, and which she knows with equal certainty that she never can be. Pretty much all of her moving parts of incompatible with the secrets of Blaine Anderson’s heart. Their waitress slides two milkshakes onto their table, along with two napkins and a surly demand to know if they’ll be wanting anything else. They shakes their heads and say no, thank you, and once she’s gone, Blaine says, quietly, almost inaudibly, “I think he knows.”

Kitty bobs back an inch, tucks her chin and flattens her palms on the seat either side of her thighs. “Has he said anything to you?” she asks, when she finds her voice. They’ve talked about him, the boy on the swim team that Blaine likes. Kitty gets it. He’s tall and he clearly takes care of himself, and he’s got a beautiful mouth and bright blue eyes and, in much the same way as Blaine, he doesn’t feel like a threat to her. Kitty knows his name is Sam, and that he’s a transfer student and a letterman and so, so not anyone Blaine can pin his heart on, if only because he can’t love him back. He’s been going steady with one of the cheerleaders since he transferred, after all. Although perhaps her current situation should tell her that that doesn’t have to mean anything, really. Across from her, Blaine chews his lip and shakes his head, his fingers playing with the straw in his milkshake. She brushes his foot with her own, and he starts and meets her eyes.

“It could be worse,” she says, softly. He turns the corner of his mouth up, and she grins wide and takes a sip of her milkshake, lets the fake and sugary banana sit on her tongue before swallowing it. She wonders, sometimes, what it’s like for him, to want something he can’t have. Wonders what it would look like, for him, to be able to just ask Sam, to tell him, to let him work out the meandering of his heart without such fear of repercussion. Blaine sighs and leans back against the seat, runs his hands over his hair and straightens his glasses and then his tie and his cardigan, makes sure his buttons are lined up neatly down his stomach. He’s a catch, she thinks. Any boy would be lucky to have him. But right now, it could be so much worse for him, and she knows he knows that. He’s below the radar, and he’s in one piece, and they both know better than to take that for granted because it’s not a given in Lima, Ohio. She remembers him after his transfer, with the bruises and the burning resilience that kept him upright and fighting, and how much she’d respected that because it’s the same thing that gets her through every day as well: a bone deep refusal to break.

“Yeah,” he says, and gestures for their waitress, orders them a plate of fries to share. His smile, when he turns it on, is charming and bright and misses his eyes. Kitty wishes she could be what he wants again, or wishes she was stupid enough to not feel the ebb of sadness that underlies his chipper assurances. She grips his hand in hers, and smiles back at him when his fingers curl around hers. It could be worse, but they both know it could be better as well. For both of them.


End file.
